by P. M. Briede
I was vaguely aware of Olivier’s frantic footsteps echoing out of the phone. “One step ahead of you. I’m not leaving the two of you unprotected if they’re out on the streets. I’m just grabbing my things and I’ll be there in about twenty minutes.”
Paige said we would have a police presence outside of her house and that part of their bail agreement was that they had to wear ankle bracelets and were on house arrest. “Even if I thought your safety wasn’t an issue, I still wouldn’t stay away,” Olivier admitted. “Depending on how this news impacts Charlotte, I don’t want to have her pull a knife on you or one of your boys by accident.” Which, unfortunately, was a real possibility. I’d pulled one on Olivier right after the attack and had pierced his throat. The sound of a door slamming brought me out of the memories from that night. “Look sweetheart, give him a call for an update,” Olivier told Paige in Tristan’s voice. “Make sure to tell him to stay with Wesley; that I’ll look out for the both of you. Then call me back.” I could only assume taking on Tristan’s appearance was how Olivier had gotten into the hotel unnoticed and thus how he was getting out. It sounded like he was instructing Paige to bring Tristan up to speed and make sure that he didn’t rush to the house too.
She seemed to pick up on that as well and after they hung up, she immediately dialed Tristan’s number. This conversation wasn’t on speaker so I could only hear her side but that was enough to tell me Tristan wasn’t thrilled at not being allowed to protect her. By this time, she’d turned off the stove and taken my arm. I followed her like a zombie to the den where she sat me on the couch. The smell of burned food penetrated my senses and I chose it to focus my deranged thoughts into it instead of the barrage of reminders on the reality of our newest crisis.
It was about fifteen minutes later when Olivier announced himself at the door by pounding on it like he was trying to knock it in. Paige and I had spent the time filling out the paperwork for restraining orders against my attackers. I finally learned their names. Duke Davis was Shorty and Cleveland Rodgers was Squeaky.
Olivier rushed me when Paige let him inside, sweeping me into his arms. I hadn’t realized exactly how frazzled I was until the feeling of safety returned with him. I didn’t cry and I was proud of myself for not, but that didn’t mean I wasn’t terrified. I refused to let fear rule my life anymore but that didn’t mean that I was going to have faith that the universe was looking out for my wellbeing. I just intended to be smarter. Right now, never being alone and keeping Olivier as my shadow as much as possible were the best methods to ensure my safety.
Once positioned back on the couch I expected Olivier to ask after my mental state. Instead, he immediately began interrogating Paige. He finished his list of questions with, “Give me the details.” She ran through everything else she’d learned since hanging up the phone with Tristan. Coughlin had found a judge willing to hear his motions on why bail should be set. He was using Paige’s mere presence at the scene of her friend’s house as reason to say there was police tampering of the evidence. The department and lab could easily prove Paige hadn’t been anywhere in the house once they arrived without another member of the New Orleans Police Department with her. The problem arose from the fact that she’d been there before we’d left for the Cat’s Meow. It wasn’t like I’d had time to clean up afterward. Her prints and trace evidence were in the kitchen, hallway, and den; all the major crime scenes.
The defense attorney was alleging that Paige, Duke, and Cleveland were all in the house at the same time. He theorized that Paige and I had staged the attack thinking this allegation would stick, putting Duke and Cleveland in jail since the incident at the House of Blues at Valentine’s. They’d tried and failed to assault Paige and me at the fundraiser for the high school where Olivier and I worked. “I thought their previous case had nothing to do with what happened to you two at House of Blues. Didn’t you say that their fingerprints had linked them to some old rape cases?” Olivier questioned.
“It didn’t have anything to do with us,” Paige confirmed. “We were trying to hold them as suspects in those cases and subpoena DNA samples, but we were denied by a judge and had to release them back in February. This time, when they attacked Charlotte in may, there was DNA all over Charlotte’s house. Their blood from when Charlotte held them off and you fought with them was all over the house. Their skin cells were in the strips of bedding they’d used to restrain her. Not to mention the pre-ejaculation fluid that was collected with the rape kit.” I flinched as her catalog of evidence brought forth the images of that night in exact and vivid detail. Olivier kissed my head and interlaced our fingers.
She must have noticed my reactions as well. “Charlotte, they’re not going to get away with it. Coughlin’s finally taken a case he can’t win. I’d already informed Detective Winters there would be proof of my presence in the home. The analysts were careful with all the evidence. Nothing was reviewed that wasn’t done in dual. All of it confirms the timeline that they were there after me.”
Olivier didn’t give Paige a second after finishing her attempt to comfort me before diving back in. “How long are they going to be out?”
“Hopefully not long,” Paige answered. “They’ve requested a speedy trial which is their right. I’m sure Coughlin’s hoping to catch us unprepared but they’ve been our top priority once we got the DNA evidence and all the old case links started rolling in. Additionally, I helped Charlotte complete the paperwork for a restraining order and I’ve done one myself. We’re going down to the station after school tomorrow to file it. I don’t think I should file hers given it’s her link to me that got them bail.”
I’d listened to the whole thing with a forced calm. I didn’t have anything to add because I’d already heard everything from Paige. Duke and Cleveland wouldn’t get near me. When Olivier wouldn’t be able to be with me I was going to be smarter and more careful about how I maneuvered through my life until they were tried and convicted. I’d put off installing a security system in my home, but wouldn’t any longer. I also was going to pay to have one installed in Olivier’s house. I’m sure Harry, the school’s security guard, would escort me to my car if Olivier wasn’t available to do so and I’d never get in it without thoroughly examining the interior and exterior. All of this should keep those sickos from getting to me.
However, on the off chance that they were able to breach all of my proactive defenses, I’d already compiled a list of reactive ones. Recalling my college days, I was going to go back to brass knuckles in my purse along with a mini-blow horn. Sure that Olivier would spar with me to help keep my instincts sharp I planned to start a training regime immediately. So either way, I wasn’t going to be caught unawares or vulnerable again.
“Um, it’s been a long and tiring day,” I finally announced. “I think I’m going up to bed.” Paige and Olivier both leveled concerned stares at me. Olivier rose to go with me. “No need,” I motioned for him to sit back down. “I need some time alone. I’ll be fine.” He reluctantly sat back down as I retreated upstairs.
I walked into Paige’s room and went to my bag. There was a box next to it. It was battered with marks all over it and I recognized it. It was the package that had been on my porch the night I’d almost been murdered. Seeing the partially cut tape brought up a fog displaying Duke and Cleveland standing in my kitchen with sinisterly, hungry eyes. I heard Cleveland trill in his high squeaky voice, Good to see that you recognize us, kitten. It’s going to make all of this a lot more fun, well for us anyway. Somehow finally having names to go with their haunting faces made them less scary, like I could see them as the horribly disturbed human beings they were. It was ridiculous and I stifled my own insane laugh and ran my fingers along the lines of the box.
I took a deep breath and broke the remaining tape, pulling out what would have been a beautifully wrapped package. Underneath the paper I found a vintage, leather bound copy of Pride and Prejudice and Northanger Abbey by Jane Austen along with a copy of The Trial, by Franz K
afka. An envelope slipped out from between the two books but I didn’t need it to know who the package was from.
The Austen book was a replica of my mother’s well-worn copy that she’d taught me to read with and because of that it had become my favorite. When she’d died, her antique library had been the once piece of memorabilia I’d wanted. Unfortunately, as her mental and physical state had diminished over the years, she’d ceased taking care of her possessions. When I’d finally found them at the bottom of a box in her bathroom, they’d been ruined from vermin and water damage. It was Wesley who’d been with me. Giles was helping my grandmother with the funeral arrangements because I just couldn’t stomach it. Therefore, it’d been Wesley who’d held me as I broke down crying because the loss of her was finalized in the loss of what those books had represented.
Kafka’s book on the other hand, while also a memory of Wesley, was a more pleasant one. It had been the basis for our English literature paper our senior year of high school. It was also the book that inspired Wesley on his quest to shape the world for the better. We’d spent much of that term sitting in the backyard of my parent’s home, on a porch swing as a matter of fact, debating the virtues of the characters and metaphors of the prose. It was the book that had made us more than just your run of the mill friends.
As I picked the card up off the ground the handwriting alone confirmed my suspicions.
Charlotte, my love,
There is not a day that goes by that I don’t thank God for bringing you into my life twenty-three years ago. You are the keeper of my heart, shepherd of my happiness, and sanctuary of my soul. I do not deserve you; I am an unworthy man. But I love you and somehow you love me as well. The times apart make me question reality as I still find it unbelievable when I hear you say “I love you” or see you gaze lovingly into my eyes. Knowing one day I will get to call you wife sends a surge to my heart that makes me fear it will burst. My proposal lacked, and I’m sorry for that, but I’m sure you know me well enough to know I’d been carrying that ring with me for weeks trying to find the perfect words and create the perfect moment. But in the end all that mattered was the one word you uttered, “Yes.”
I feel as though I never take the opportunity we have together to tell you all the things I want you to know. I’m so caught up in your smiles, starry eyes, and infectious laugh. You are my soul mate, the love of my life. There has never been another and never will be. I would have been satisfied with this life if I’d only known one day of your true love before it ended. The gift of it for the many years we will have together is overwhelming. I will forever be steadfast to you. You are my North Star guiding me through this life. You’ve never led me astray and I know you never will.
Lately, I’ve found myself no longer regretting never speaking up when we were younger. I’m glad you had the happiness and love you found in Giles. I’m glad we spent those years apart. It was a test and I now feel I passed. It was a test of our friendship. It was a test of my love. It was a test of my worth. I know you’re probably feeling guilty because you don’t feel as though your sentiments can match or compare to mine. Please don’t. I know your gift is to love many and I’m grateful to be the last one to hold your heart. I know I do. I know you love me and will love me as your husband. It won’t be the same as you loved Giles, but the intensity of your feelings will be just as strong. I don’t doubt that.
These are just small tokens of all you’ve meant to me through the years, all we’ve meant to each other. So on this birthday, my lovely fiancée, I wish you joy and I’m sorry I’m not there to share it. But in writing, I am swearing to you, I’ll never miss another. Hopefully for all the ones to come I can address this love letter to my wife. The last time I begged you to not make me wait long, I found you in my arms within two weeks. I’d kissed you and become your lover within a month. I’d asked you to marry me and was rewarded with your acceptance within three. I made mistakes, my love, but they make me a better man and they make me appreciate the woman you are. I’ll never take you for granted. So I beg of you again, don’t make me wait long. Set a date, tell me a time and place, and I’ll be there, ready and eager to marry you. After all I’ve been practicing every day since you allowed me to slip my ring onto your finger. I take you to be my wedded wife. To have and to hold, from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness or in health, to love and to cherish till death do us part. And hereto I pledge you my faithfulness.
Your darling,
Wesley
I was so conflicted over what to do. The last couple of hours had been one wretched reminder of that vile day in May and all I’d lost because of it. Had I opened this box then I would have known my initial instincts concerning Wesley were true. He probably would have still ended up in Abigail’s bed but we could have kept them from getting engaged. We could have cut his abuse in half.
Both Olivier and Wesley were waiting for me to make a decision. They were so convinced they were unworthy of my love and devotion. But the more I saw them fight against what felt to me as unsurmountable odds, the more I felt that it was I who was unworthy of them.
Chapter 6
School started and overall there were no calamities. We told the students and parents the police presence was a result of the Wyatt’s being board members for the school. Since Alexander was now the Presidential candidate for his party, we were taking precautions to ensure no one thought to make a political statement at the school. Olivier escorted me to my office every day and picked me up every afternoon. He’d handpicked and was paying for personal security that stood outside my office when he couldn’t be with me. April, my assistant, didn’t seem to mind since she found the guy attractive. He was quite professional and ignored her less than professional innuendos.
The Sunday evening before Labor Day as Olivier and I were laying in Paige’s yard under a sea of stars I asked how he’d known others had messed with Abigail’s mind. “When one of us messes with a memory, it leaves a sort of fingerprint,” he explained.
“Is that how you knew my mind was angel free?”
Olivier shifted uncomfortably. “Ah, it actually isn’t,” he admitted.
I sat up and looked in his eyes. “You said there were no holes, no breaks!”
He tenderly cupped my face. “And there still aren’t. But having been in Breaux’s and Abigail’s minds I looked again at yours.”
“When?”
“The morning after the convention ball. After you told me that Celinda had turned you away from me in college I wondered how.”
Even though I was afraid of what he’d say I had to know. “And…”
“She didn’t really alter anything, Charlotte,” Olivier confessed, “which is why I didn’t find anything the first time I looked. She just intensified your fears that we were moving too fast. You did the rest.”
That made sense. Henry, the persona Olivier had worn during our college days, had been one of the first guys I’d ever cared deeply about and at the time I hadn’t understood the emotions. “Did you search out anything else?” I asked nervously.
His eyes locked on mine. “I ignored everything else. I only looked for her fingerprint. I only see what you choose to show me.”
“What do you mean?”
“When you share a memory with me,” Olivier began, “I don’t just hear your description but I can see what plays through your mind in your eyes. I’m sure you’ve heard the phrase, ‘The eyes are the windows to the soul.’ This is where it came from. For an angel we can weigh the value of a soul by the memories. As a Powers, I would watch as the life of the dying played out in their last moments to determine which to use to persuade them to repent. As an exile, I would do the same in reverse. Given enough time I can search a mind for the information I want, but I’ve found it easier to ask. Typically, I just watched the scene play out and leave with what I needed with no one the wiser.”
This new insight into what Olivier could do troubled me and I shuddered. “Shh,
carissime,” he said in a soothing tone. “It’s why I don’t look in your eyes when I ask you about a memory. I’ve stopped doing it with your friends as well. If you think hard enough, you’ll know it’s true. As best as I can, and no I’m not perfect at it, I try to live as human a life as I can with you.”
I thought about it. He was right. Most times when he locked eyes with me it was to tell me of his love or when I pulled his gaze to mine. It was impossible to expect him to live a perfectly ordinary human life. He wasn’t a perfectly ordinary human, but he was a man doing his best to be equal to the woman he loved. He was a superior being trying to be inferior for my peace of mind, for my privacy. Relaxing into his embrace, I trusted his words, trusted Olivier when he said he didn’t go pillaging through my mind.
The chirping of birds and the cool kiss of the breeze on my dew dampened skin awakened me. I was still swathed in Olivier’s protective and loving embrace. We must have fallen asleep outside. His deep, rhythmic breathing told me he still was. I intended to just lie there, continuing to enjoy the feel of being in his arms. But I’ve never been one who could just lie still and soon my shivers from the breeze and restless fidgeting woke him. When I felt him stretch, I brought my face to his. “Good morning, sleepy head,” I cooed.
“Ah, good morning,” Olivier greeted me in return. He delivered a chaste kiss to my lips and hugged me close. “We’ll need to make a trip home today, I think. I’m running low on some supplies and I believe they are installing those security systems you requested in our homes. Maybe we could steal away for some real quality alone time?” His eyebrows were dancing as flames lit his eyes.
